Larger Than a Dream
by Bookdancer
Summary: "... and there was this little voice in the back of his head whispering, 'It is a dream. You'll wake up eventually, Arthur, and he won't be there. Not the way you want him to be.' He found it a bit too easy to imagine punching that voice in the face." Arthur begins to question his reality, and decides to do something about it. One-shot. EamesxArthur


_Wow, okay, so sorry for how long it's taken me to get this posted. I know you weren't expecting it, but a week is a little long, nevertheless. Also, this is my very first _Inception_ fic, so I am very sorry for any wrong facts or OOCness that you'll stumble across while reading this. All the same, I had a fantastic time writing this, and I hope you'll enjoy!_

_I do not own _Inception_._

Larger Than a Dream

He wasn't really sure how it had happened. He would say it was like a dream come true, but he tried not to think of it like that because it was a bit too punny for him. That, and there was this little voice in the back of his head whispering, "It is a dream. You'll wake up eventually, Arthur, and he won't be there. Not the way you want him to be." He found it a bit too easy to imagine punching that voice in the face.

Arthur was always walking those days, strolling down the sidewalk in front of their house and wondering when his dream would collapse. When Eames would leave him with nothing but a goodbye kiss and the word 'sorry' lingering on his lips. Arthur thought it would happen fairly soon.

So maybe that was why he wasn't surprised when he found himself on their balcony one Saturday night, feet up on the edge of the railing as he balanced perfectly, a gun gripped loosely in one hand. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before Eames came out, a relaxed look on his face before he saw Arthur. The new expression made Arthur wonder if that was what Cobb had looked like, when he found Mal on their hotel windowsill. He never would have thought he would reciprocate Mal's position.

"Arthur." Eames' voice was low, almost frightened, as he saw his boyfriend. "Arthur, please. You don't want to do this."

"But I do, Eames." The smaller man replied. "I do. I need to know if this is real. And I don't think it is."

Blue eyes gazed into soft brown, silently pleading for him not to do what he was going to. But Arthur looked back just as imploringly, asking Eames to _understand_. To let him do this. To let Arthur be shown love from someone who he didn't believe was a projection.

"But it is real, Arthur." Eames said. "It all is. You fell in love with me, so please believe me!"

In that instant, the point man knew what he was going to do. "That's the problem, though. I didn't fall in love with you, I fell in love with _Eames_."

He carefully tossed the gun down at the other man's feet, still balancing on the railing. And in that moment, he fell backwards, eyes closed, toward the pavement far below their apartment. He could only hope he would never hit it.

* * *

Arthur didn't have to wait long before his eyes snapped open and he found himself practically choking on air as he jerked forward out of the chair he had been sitting in. He was in a warehouse, in one of six chairs surrounding a PASIV device. Ripping the IV out of his arm, Arthur stumbled past pour painfully familiar figures and someone else who must have been their target.

He did his best to wave off Yusuf, who had probably been watching the time for them. It was uneffective, though, as he heard the chemist questioning him anxiously when he finally sunk to his knees on the cold, concrete floor.

The point man could hear the others waking up behind him, but he still managed to keep what little composure he had left. At least, he did before Eames spoke up.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" The forger asked, for once something besides amusement decorating his tone. "What happened, Darling?"

It was those words that broke through the barrier holding back his memories, and Arthur bit back a sob as they all came rushing back. It didn't take long before he was bent over his knees, emptying his stomach on the floor.

"Arthur!" Distantly, said man recognized Ariadne's voice as well as others that filtered into his mind.

"What's wrong with him?" Yusuf, the words tinted with worry.

"I'm not sure, but we need to take care of Simmons. He's waking up." Dom, managing to be worried and still assertive.

"Dom, you and Yusuf take care of Simmons. Ari and I'll get Arthur." Eames. The name slipped through Arthur's mind like melted chocolate. Sweet, perfect, dark. Eames.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long it was before he finally came back to his senses. It may have been five minutes, an hour, or two days.

His eyes blinked open to reveal a grayish white, and he suspected that he had been laid on his reclining chair in the warehouse. There was a light pressure on his left hand, and he glanced over to see Ariadne seated in a chair next to him, her head tipped forward as she slept.

"Ari?" He mumbled, his voice rasping. Arthur did his best to clear his throat before trying again. "Ariadne." He squeezed her hand, trying to ignore the fact that it was small and soft instead of large and rough.

The architect awoke slowly, reminding Arthur of the world he had originally left behind. The world that he had just rejoined. He felt the tears beginning to gather again and so he pinched his thigh with his free hand. With a jolt, he realized that he was wearing slacks. In limbo, he had started writing books instead of dreaming, so he could spend more time with Eames. As a result, he had picked up on the habit of wearing jeans or sweatpants with a T-shirt. Something, he realized, that was unheard of in this world.

"Arthur?" The voice came from Ariadne, and he turned to face her. "Arthur, what... what happened? You disappeared in the dreamscape, and when we woke up you... well..."

The brown-haired man stared at her for a second before shaking his head. "I... I can't, Ari, I'm sorry. I... how long was I out?"

"Oh... um, one day. That's it. I just..." She hesitated. "We want to help you. You were missing for two days in the dream. We just... Maybe it would help if you told us what happened?"

Arthur gave a dark laugh at her question statement, but shook his head again. "Like I said, Ariadne, I can't. And only Eames can help me." The last sentence was said under his breath as he turned away, not wanting the girl to know what he'd said.

Still, she must have heard something, because she leaned forward, a curious expression on her face. "What? Arthur, what did you say?"

"Nothing." He muttered. "I didn't say anything."

Ariadne gazed at him seriously, but left when he didn't turn back around. She needed to have a talk with Eames.

* * *

"Eames." Ariadne said firmly, coming to stand by Eames' left shoulder. The British man was seated in the chair at Arthur's desk, feet up on the wood as he tapped out a tune on the desktop. As usual, he was dressed in slacks and a loud patterned shirt, though she had never seen the one he was wearing before.

The man glanced at her so quickly she first thought she had imagined it, if not for the slight tensing of his shoulders.

"Arthur's awake." She continued, gaining confidence when Eames finally turned to look at her properly. "He said only you can help him." She paused, wondering what to say, before deciding on, "Do you know why?"

He blinked up at her, a shocked look on his face, before standing and bolting to the room they had placed Arthur in. Behind Ariadne, Cobb grinned from his desk.

* * *

"Arthur?" The sound made said man turn his head, unconsciously smiling at Eames' voice. To his surprise, the British man had careened to a halt at the doorway, as if he were afraid. "Arthur, I... I..."

"You what, Eames?"

The forger just stared at him, his eyes lit in what Arthur could only describe as _hope_. And, in an instant, he watched it disappear. "I... I can't do this." Eames blurted out, spinning and walking away out of sight.

"What?" Arthur asked. Suddenly realizing that his opportunity was walking away, he jumped up, disregarding the fact that Ariadne and Cobb had probably wanted him to stay in 'bed'. "Eames, wait!" He cried, running after the other man.

Eames took one more step before turning around. "Look, Darling, I'm sorry, but I don't think the help you want is the help that I want to give you. I'm pretty sure they're two different things."

Arthur shook his head. "No, Eames, you don't get it. I just..." He trailed off, trying to think. "Try to dream a little bigger?"

He turned and walked away, wishing that he could be the Arthur he had been or the Arthur from limbo, both of which wouldn't have hesitated to kiss Eames. Instead he was stuck in between, uncertain of himself and what Eames wanted.

Suddenly, a large hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around. Lips attached to Arthur's, and the other hand cupped his neck. Pulling away, Eames beamed at him. "Is my dreaming big enough for you, Darling?"

"Yes." Arthur breathed. "Yeah, I think it is."

_Yup, I know. Really cheesy ending, and I'm sorry about that. Still, I do hope you'll review, and thanks so much for reading!_


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